


Ours

by petrodactyl352



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), Castlevania (Netflix), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alucard is hungry, Blood Drinking, Eventual Smut, Everyone gets love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Multi, OT3 love, Plotless (kind of?), Season/Series 02, Sypha gives free cuddles, Sypha is a thousand percent done with Trevor and Alucard's dick measuring contests, Trevor is Horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrodactyl352/pseuds/petrodactyl352
Summary: Sypha reached out to take his hand, their fingers tangling together. "There's no need to be so formal, Alucard," she said softly, her eyes sparkling. "Of course we would allow you to—you are our..." She trailed off.Friend?Even Trevor knew that that wasn't the right word.Allywas too distant. Maybe 'friend' would have been all right until that night, but after what he'd felt even before Alucard had drunk his blood—that wasn't exactly a sentiment observed in an innocent friendship."Your what?" Alucard asked softly, looking up at her through his curtains of pale hair, and Sypha tilted her chin up, leaning forward. "Ours," she said, and her voice was firm and sure, and steady as her eyes. Her fingers gently brushed his hair out of his face as she leaned towards him. "You are ours."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Three cold, hungry travelers sitting and chilling by a campfire, five feet apart 'cause they're not polyamorous—oh, wait. 
> 
> Yep, I'm back again to feed all of you more Trevor/Sypha/Alucard (Trephacard? Syphercard? Belmadepes? What?) smut because I'm just generous that way. Also I can't stop writing about these three. This OT3 has taken over my life, and you know what, I'm not even complaining.

**_Alucard_ **

He was starving. 

He hadn't said anything though, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to the... " _needs_ of his _other_ half", as Trevor often called it. He also didn't much feel like seeing Trevor's absurdly sensual lips curl into a smirk if he said anything, either. Because he hated it when he did that. Of course. 

He'd lost blood when they'd fought the night hordes a few days ago, lots of it; he'd healed quickly, but not before he'd bled enough to feel a sharp pinch in his veins, and a hollow feeling in his chest. He'd dismissed it as nothing, thinking the feeling would vanish in a day's time. But it had persisted, and now he had a throbbing headache and a dry throat to boot. 

They were sitting by a pitifully small fire, which sputtered feebly against the night. Sypha was sitting across from him, knees drawn up to her chest as she stared into the flames, her eyes reflecting the dancing tongues of fire. Trevor was next to her, lying flat on his back with his arms folded behind his head, looking up at the stars that were scattered across the sky. 

He tried as hard as he could not to look at the pulse in Sypha's throat, the sound of her heartbeat in his ears. It made his chest contract painfully, sending a dull wave of pain through his body. He leaned his head against the wagon behind him, silently cursing fate and its terrible sense of humor. 

He didn't need blood to survive—the side of him that was human made sure of that—but his heart produced only half the amount of blood a full human's did, his vampire half slowing the natural production of it. Which meant that if he lost blood, the only way he could regain enough to be fully healthy, was to ingest it. 

Well, he had fangs for a reason, he supposed. 

He sighed, closing his eyes. He knew he ought to say something. But if he did, then they would offer to let him drink their blood—or, at least Sypha would. Trevor would most likely sneer and say some rubbish about how he didn't fancy being a vampire's snack, or something like that. And moreover, he was a vampire hunter, which gave him all the more reason not to want to let Alucard drink his blood. 

But then again, even Alucard didn't want to drink their blood. Even if sometimes the scent of Sypha's mortality, the fresh, seductive tang it had to it, drew him like a moth to a flame. Even if sometimes, no matter how hard he tried not to, he found his eyes clinging to the vein in Trevor's throat, the sure, steady pulse of life beneath corded skin and muscle. 

His veins contracted with another sharp pinch and he winced, swallowing hard. It felt as if his throat was lined with knives. His headache intensified, then almost without warning, gave way to a terrible, roiling nausea. He took deep breaths, closing his eyes against the way the fire was suddenly swimming in front of his eyes. He forced it down, swallowing hard past his dry throat. 

Trevor sat up suddenly, putting a hand on Sypha's shoulder to steady himself—Alucard felt a pang at the casual, intimate contact—and swiveled around to face the fire. "It's fucking freezing over here," he sighed, his hand falling away from Sypha's shoulder as he held both over the weak flames. He turned to Sypha. "Can't you make it any bigger?"

"She can't," said Alucard, raising a brow at Trevor. "Make it any bigger and it'll be a flare for any passing night hordes. Their vision is based on movement, and light on dark. We'll be discovered within hours."

"I didn't say hours," said Trevor with a roll of his eyes. "And nobody asked you, Alucard."

Later, Alucard would think back to what happened and reflect that, if he hadn't been starving out of his mind and craving blood the way a human craved water and air combined, he wouldn't have reacted the way he did. As it was, he was weak, and nauseous, and irritated, and his hackles rose almost instantly. 

"Forgive me if I was only concerned about not getting all of us torn to pieces in our sleep," he snapped. "It often seems to me as if I'm the only one who cares about getting to my father's castle alive and in one piece."

Trevor's eyes narrowed. "You think I don't care?"

"Well, it certainly seems that way," Alucard said, glaring at him. Trevor glared right back, and his fingers twitched almost involuntarily in the direction of his whip, which was coiled at his hip. Alucard caught the movement, sneering, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"Go on, try it," he hissed. "Let's see how far you can get."

"Alucard, stop it," Sypha said, her voice sharp. "And you too, Trevor. I get that we're all tired, and cold, and we're not feeling too good, but we can't—"

"Stay out of it, Sypha," snapped Trevor, and Sypha narrowed her eyes at him, scowling. He turned back to Alucard, and his fingers had wrapped entirely around the handle of his whip now. "I definitely care more than you do," he spat. "Because I, unlike someone, wasn't asleep in a coffin under a city for a year sleeping it all off—I was out there, actually fighting, and I think that can be considered giving a shit about what was going on, vampire."

Alucard scoffed, his fingernails digging into his palms. "I'm the one who tried to stop my father, and I got myself sliced open in the process, Belmont—an injury that would have killed you three times over, by the way—and I don't think getting drunk and getting into brawls at taverns can be called _getting out there fighting_ , can it?"

"Shut up," snapped Trevor. "You have no idea what people go through, you bastard. People have been dying, starving, being torn to shreds by your kind for years, and through it all you were sitting up in your magically traveling castle with mum and dad, not giving a rat's arse about any of it. My family was banished by the very people we tried so hard to save—from the likes of _you_."

"My mother," hissed Alucard, "was a doctor. She helped people, saved them, and you know how they repaid her? They cheered and shouted their victory as she was burned at the stake for being a witch. Don't think I do not know sorrow, Belmont. I know it as well as you do."

"Don't give me that shit," snarled Trevor. "You wouldn't know human suffering if it kicked you in the fangs, and believe me, it does that a lot."

"That's enough," said Sypha, holding a hand out. "That's enough. Both of you, calm down. You two need to stop fighting for every small thing that happens—"

"Well, maybe that'd be possible if I wasn't brought up to stake _his_ kind," seethed Trevor, and Alucard stiffened. 

" _My_ kind?" he asked softly. "And what is that supposed to mean, Belmont?"

"It means all you bloodsucking leeches that have preyed on us for fucking centuries," said Trevor, glaring at him. "The unholiest things on this planet, who should've been banished and killed instead of us, who actually purged the lands of you creatures and saved the commonfolk."

"You think that hasn't already happened?" demanded Alucard. "That we haven't been jumped and killed on sight wherever we go, for simply existing, and requiring our own needs, as you humans do? We haven't killed humans for blood for decades, we never have—only feral vampires kill. We've had to survive on our own, when villagers holding crosses and stars come and stake us for simply asking to share this world with you. You call us savages, but is that really so?"

"So now _we're_ the predators, is it?" He struggled into a kneeling position, rage dawning on his face. "That's just like a vampire, to play the blameless victim every damn time, to make it look like it's our fault _you_ drink our _blood_. You're all as crazy as your father."

"I'm not a vampire," snarled Alucard. "Not fully—"

"Fat lot of difference that makes," sneered Trevor. 

"—and my father is not entirely wrong in blaming humans for being selfish and ignorant," he continued, glaring at Trevor. "You have experienced firsthand the mindless wrath of the church, just as my father has."

"Oh, no," hissed Trevor. "Don't try that—don't ever compare me with your father. Don't ever try to put us in the same light—we are _not_ in any way similar. Don't you ever do that."

"And yet," said Alucard quietly, "you speak of the church and your excommunication the same way he speaks of my mother's death. No matter how much you wish to vehemently deny it, Belmont, you and my father have known all the same pains."

"I am _nothing_ like Dracula," Trevor said, baring his teeth. "Shut up."

"Does having anything, even something as small as this, in common with a vampire really disgust you so, Belmont?" He narrowed his eyes, and Trevor scoffed. 

"I was born to kill your kind, Alucard," he snarled. "The first books I read were filled with all the ways one can kill you, the first songs my mother sang to me were hymns to repel unholy creatures of the night, and my first toys were all blessed metal and stakes and consecrated swords. So I'm sorry if I can't stomach the thought of being compared to something I was raised to exterminate."

"'Exterminate'?" The word was incredulous on his lips. "As if—as if we were rats, or vermin?" He balled his hands into fists to hide their shaking. "My kind walked this land long before yours invaded," he said, teeth gritted. "To us, you were murderers, savages, beasts who killed each other for the 'greater good'."

"And to you, we were food, too," said Trevor. "What difference does it make?"

Alucard opened his mouth to retaliate when another, sudden overwhelming wave of nausea took over him, constricting his throat and making it near-impossible to breathe. He doubled over as a cough wracked his whole body, his skin tightening and pinching him to the extent that he nearly passed out. His eyes watered, his chest heaving as the terrible coughing finally subsided, and he swallowed, gritting his teeth against the queasiness. 

Both Trevor and Sypha were looking at him, wide-eyed, Trevor not without some chagrin. He stood shakily, dusting the snow off his coat as he did. Glancing coldly at Trevor, he said, "Fine. If that's how you want it, then fine." He turned, and as he walked away he called out, "And don't follow me."

He stalked off towards a pile of boulders that stood a ways away, nimbly climbing over them and dropping lightly on the other side. His boots had just cleared the snow when he doubled over, hands clutching the boulders for support as his vision tunneled. His headache tripled, his stomach heaved—and then he stumbled forward and vomited blood all over the snow, his body wracked with shudders. 

_Fuck._ He heaved, retching and coughing, gasping for breath as the trembling stopped, and he'd emptied his stomach of what pitiful amount of blood he'd had left. He sagged against the boulder, his mouth incredibly dry and his body incredibly empty. If someone were to strike him, he thought, he'd ring like a hollow bell, nothing inside him but empty space. 

He might have lasted the night if Trevor hadn't baited him. He might have. And in the morning he could have gone and found some woodland creature to feed on, even if the chances of that were low in midwinter, when all the animals burrowed deep underground and slept until spring. 

He pulled off his gloves, examining his hands. They were entirely bloodless, pale as death, with black veins like cracks in white marble running beneath. He'd never felt the loss of blood like this, since he'd always had enough to keep him functioning. But if the slightest of disturbances could do this, then that meant he was, to put it simply, fucked. 

He let out a half-laugh, gasping shallowly as he looked up at the sky. He had a distinct sense that the universe was laughing at him for his abject misery and self-induced pain. But he was glad he hadn't said anything, since he now knew what sort of a reaction it would have garnered from Trevor. Even if it meant he was slowly wasting away, his veins empty and his heart struggling to fill them. 

He scrubbed his hands across his face, sighing. Not for the first, nor the last time, he wished he didn't need blood to live. It just made everything so much more complicated, and messy, and annoying. 

"Alucard?"

He jumped, spinning around, and saw, to his surprise, Trevor picking his way over the boulders gingerly, sliding down next to him with a wary look on his face. Before Alucard could even open his mouth he said, "I know you told us not to follow you, but—"

"Sypha sent you, didn't she?" He arched an eyebrow. 

"What, so now I can't be concerned that we yelled at each other and then you nearly coughed your lungs up?" He sighed at Alucard's expression. "Yeah, she did."

"Hmm." Alucard inspected him. "Well, get it over with."

Trevor had the gall to look surprised. "Get what over with?"

"Your rant about how I shouldn't have run off, or something of that ilk." He crossed his arms over his chest as Trevor blinked. "I wasn't going to rant about that, actually," he said. Then he hesitated. "Sypha said she'd noticed that you've been... off-color, for a few days," he ventured cautiously.

Alucard silently cursed Sypha's perspicacity. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "She said that lately you've been pale, and stringy, and weird." He frowned, scratching his chin. "Okay, maybe not that last part, but—you get what I mean."

"No, I don't." He made to turn away, trying to hide his bloodless hands, which were now bereft of gloves. "I need to clear my head. You can get back to the camp, Belmont."

"Wait—look," said Trevor, a tad desperately, and he seemed to be steeling himself to do something very, very difficult. He swallowed, looking away from Alucard. "I know that back there, I said some things that weren't very... I mean... _I_ wasn't very—" He broke off suddenly mid-sentence, staring at something to Alucard's left, his eyes going wide. "Is that _blood_?"

 _Shit._ "What?" 

"And what the fuck is wrong with your hands?" He grabbed them, staring with apparent horror at the white skin stretched tightly over his bones, and the traceries of black veins beneath it. He looked back up at Alucard, and he could almost see the cogs and gears in his brain turning. 

He pushed Alucard's sleeves up till his elbows despite his weak protests, and shook his head at the stark black veins that should have held pulsing, living blood. He looked back up at him, eyes narrowed. "I didn't know you needed blood to survive," he said. 

Alucard snatched his hands back, yanking his sleeves down with a scowl. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." He jerked his head towards the boulders. "I'll bet my whip you lost blood during the battle two days ago—and you haven't had any since. And now when we fought you exerted more energy than you should've—and you've just puked your guts out, and now there's nothing in your body at all."

Alucard glared. "So what?"

" _So_ ," said Trevor slowly, as if he were talking to a child, "you're dying, you idiot. Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

He mumbled incoherence, and Trevor rolled his eyes. "You moron, Alucard," he said, not without exasperation. "It's supposed to be me doing all the self-destructive dumb stuff, not you. Come on." He grabbed his arm, marching him back to the camp. "We need to get some blood into you, and fast."

"And what, there's just bags of blood lying around for me to drink?" He scoffed, attempting to dislodge Trevor's iron grip, but to no avail. "Be realistic, Belmont."

"No," said Trevor. "There's us." 

Alucard dug his heels into the snow, forcing Trevor to come to a halt as well. "No," he said. "There's no way I'm drinking yours or Sypha's blood—"

"Well then, give me another option," he said, resuming his pulling of Alucard's arm. "Look, it's fine. I get it. You need the stuff, there's nothing we can do about it, so let's just roll with it."

"That's the most ridiculous thing you've said since the last most ridiculous thing you said," muttered Alucard. 

"Shut up."

He allowed himself the tiniest of grins as he was dragged to the camp again, where Sypha was waiting, arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow at them as they stumbled into the circle of firelight, Trevor still gripping his arm. "Well?" she asked, frowning at them. "I hope you resolved your silly little argument? Or do you need me to find you a ruler to help finish it?"

"Alucard's starving," said Trevor bluntly, ignoring Sypha's jab.

Alucard bit his lip, wincing. "I wouldn't say _starving_ ," he tried, trying not to wilt under Sypha's narrowed eyes and blazing glare. "Just... just a little... deprived of sustenance, that's all."

Her glare intensified. 

He caved, sighing. "All right, yes, I'm starving," he admitted. 

"Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes," she said, standing and crossing her arms, and he wilted even further, "why didn't you _say anything_?"

"I—I didn't want to be an unnecessary burden," he said feebly, swallowing. "And I didn't—don't—want to drink either of your blood, it's unnecessary when I can simply use the blood of a lesser animal—"

"No," she said firmly, moving towards him. Despite how small she was, and how delicate she seemed, she radiated a distinct sort of authority, one that, no matter how tiny her stature, could command anyone. It was a trait he'd noticed she had in common with his mother, which made a burst of nostalgia warm his chest, along with a flash of pain and admiration. 

He hesitated as she moved towards him step by step, and the scent of her blood—energy, steadiness, sunlight—made his knees weak and his head spin. She appeared to notice the effect her nearness had on him, and she blinked, her eyes sparking. She stopped, then slowly, deliberately moved closer, and the scent of her vitality seemed to veritably _pour_ out of her, spilling through the air and filling his head. 

He gasped, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the nearest available surface, which happened to be Trevor's shirt. His hands knotted in the fabric as he half-fell backwards onto the hunter, who caught him with a grunt of effort. He felt his fangs sharpen, elongating till they sliced into his lower lip, pain lancing through his face. He could practically taste Trevor's blood on his tongue—it smelled different, like pure, unadulterated life and unbridled freedom. 

A sudden, terrifying wanting took hold of him. He wanted their blood, both of theirs—and he knew that if he got it, then he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop until he'd filled himself with the scent and taste of them, of Trevor and Sypha—the two people who had, somehow, slipped so easily past all his defenses and had touched him in a way that nobody else ever had. 

"Don't," he gasped as Sypha moved closer still, eyes now glittering. "Don't—I'll lose control—"

She was close enough now that with every heaving breath he took, his chest just brushed hers. The contact made his head spin, sensation crackling through his body like electricity. She put a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes, a pained groan slipping past his lips. "It's all right," she whispered. "I'm right here, Alucard."

"I can't," he choked out. 

"You have to." Her thumb stroked across his cheek. She leaned even closer, turning her head to the side to expose the pulsing vein in her throat. A surge of desire shot through him, and he didn't know whether it was for her blood or something else. "It's okay," she murmured, stepping forward, and now she was far too close. "Do it."

"Sypha," he whispered. "Don't—I can't—"

And he bit her. 

His fangs pierced easily through the skin at the side of her throat, so easily it was as if her blood were eager to fill his mouth, as eager as he was to drink it. The first mouthful of blood was like a breath after a thousand years underwater, like sunlight after a thousand years of rain—like Sypha, pure and simple.

She gasped, her fingers curving around his shoulders, tilting her head to allow him easier access, which he took willingly, moving closer. His fingers tangled in the soft curls at her nape while his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush with him. She was so small against him, so delicate, but he felt her strength as she held him to her, the power in her hands. She murmured almost approvingly, her fingers stroking over his skin in tacit urgency. 

Her scent and her essence was spilling from her blood into him, filling him with reckless, wanton ecstasy. He pulled her closer and she gasped again when he closed his eyes, still drinking from her, feeling the pulse of her blood in his veins. There was a spark in her blood as well, one that gave it a soft zing of energy—her magic, he realized. It made his whole body prickle pleasantly as her blood settled in his veins, flowing through them where, moments before, there had been only empty space.

He had never fed like this, not when he'd been starving for days, and never from someone he had wanted for so long. Her skin was so soft against his lips, and her blood was impossibly invigorating, and to him it tasted like pure vitality, like mortality and something so entirely _human_ that his heart ached. He felt drunk on it, on Sypha, on the taste of her blood on his lips and the feeling of her body pressed against his, drunk and elated and free—

He yanked himself away from her, gasping for breath as he lurched backwards, stumbling into Trevor again, whose arms looped under his own, pulling him upwards easily. She stumbled as well, putting a hand to her throat, eyes wide—where there were two neat puncture wounds, and two thin lines of dark red blood that trickled from them. 

Still immersed in the high of the feeling, his vision shimmering and blurry and hazed through with lights, he drew her closer, fingers gripping her hair and tipping her head back. He lowered his head over her exposed throat, his tongue tracing over the blood that leaked from the wounds he'd left there, tasting her skin. She shuddered, her back arching. 

He drew away, and she was panting, her eyes wide and bright. He straightened, and he felt light, so light he could have run over any distance, jumped across any length and fallen from any height. He felt stronger than he had in years, and everything around him seemed to be thrice as brilliant.

He'd stopped himself, however, and his body was still craving for more. He turned, and he could hear Trevor's heartbeat in his ears, wild and thrumming and fast, and he could smell his blood, intoxicating and tempting and irresistible. There was something else, laced with his scent, something that had sprung to life when he'd seen Alucard drink Sypha's blood. Something dark, something dangerous. And something that made his blood seem even more enticing. 

He moved towards the hunter, whose eyes were wide in his pale face. He didn't move back, though he looked as if he wanted to as Alucard stepped forward, completely invading his personal space. He didn't protest, however, as Alucard's fingers encircled his wrist tightly, his other hand bunching in Trevor's collar, pulling him closer. He heard Trevor gasp almost as if in reflex as their bodies slammed up against each other, chest to chest. His eyes were half-hooded, darkening with every passing second. 

He placed his index finger at Trevor's throat, willing his nail to sharpen to a point, tapering to a deadly claw. He swiped his finger across the pulse fluttering there, and Trevor sucked in a breath, his eyes closing. His skin parted beneath his claw ever so slightly, and a bead of blood gathered on his fingertip. He lifted his hand to his lips, allowing the single drop of blood to fall on his tongue. 

The taste of him, of Trevor, exploded in Alucard's mouth, spreading to his whole body, and it was every bit as tempting as Sypha's. He pulled the hunter closer, breathing hard as the force of his hunger—both for his blood and for him—overcame him, blotting everything else out. He tilted his head, leaning in so that his lips just brushed Trevor's ear, sending a shiver through the hunter's body that he felt through his own. 

"Your turn," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Trevor is eaten by a half-vampire. 
> 
> Yes, both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I downed four large cups of Peet's before finishing this chapter off. I'm sure it shows.

**_Trevor_ **

He was surrounded by him, by Alucard; he was everywhere, he was everything—he was all he could see, imposing and tall and broad and pressed up against him, his hair tumbling onto Trevor's shoulders. He was all he could hear, his breaths in his ear and the low growl in his voice that sent heat skittering down his body. He was all he could feel, his hands gripping his arm, the other lingering on his neck, where the headiness of his touch chased away the pinch of the cut he'd left there. And he was all he could smell, too, the heavy scent of his skin lingering in the air and filling his head. 

_If only I could_ taste _him the way he has me_ —

The thought slipped from his mind as Alucard's long, nimble fingers slid into his hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. There was blood—his own—on his lips, fresh and gleaming. He leaned closer, and he could feel his breaths on his ear, stirring his hair. "Your turn," he purred, pressing him closer, and a shiver raced down his spine, not entirely unpleasant.

He was a Belmont. His family had hunted and killed vampires for generations. He hated vampires, as he was raised to, and his first instinct was always to kill them. But he'd been robbed of all his instincts now, and here he was, wrapped around a vampire—dhampir, whatever—in an embrace that could only be described as _passionate_ , and he was going to drink Trevor's blood. 

And Trevor hadn't ever wanted anything more. 

Just as the thought passed through his mind he felt a sudden, sharp prick at his neck as Alucard's fangs pierced through his skin, breaking it. He hissed, pain flaring from the spot—and then he felt a faint pull, and then another, and then another. 

And then he felt neither. 

_Something_ was spreading from the spot where Alucard's lips met his skin, something that wasn't pain nor discomfort nor soreness. It was heady, lulling, almost pleasurable. He found himself tilting his head to allow Alucard in further, his eyes fluttering closed as his arms seemingly moved of their own accord, one wrapping around his shoulders as the other tangled in his shimmering hair. 

Alucard moved closer, his knee slotting between Trevor's legs, his eyelashes tickling his throat as he fed, their limbs hopelessly entwined. Trevor's lips parted, and then a sound escaped him, one he'd never dreamed would come out of his mouth, and least of all for a vampire; a breathless, needy sound that wouldn't have sounded out of place in a brothel. _Oh, God, did I really just make that sound?_

Alucard hummed softly, almost gratifyingly, his fingers tightening on Trevor's shirt, nearly ripping the fabric. He could practically see his own dignity wither away and crumble to ashes in front of him, and the horrified looks on his ancestors' faces if they ever found out he had willingly let a vampire drink his blood—and that he was getting off from it. 

His limbs felt heavy and useless, and his brain felt fuzzy and equally as useless as his physical capabilities. He knew that he'd be happy to just lie there, letting Alucard drink his blood forever, and he'd be content. Everything fell away—their mission, the looming threat of Dracula, the fear that they were going to his old home, where there were so many ghosts—everything faded away and became Alucard. 

He closed his eyes, and just as his knees were about to give way Alucard ripped himself away from Trevor, stumbling back and fetching up next to Sypha, whose eyes were wide. He was panting, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed red—red with his and Sypha's blood—and his fingers shaking. 

Suddenly without support, Trevor's legs gave out, and he slid to his knees in the snow, gasping for breath. He braced his palms on the cold snow, swallowing hard as every nerve in his body vocally expressed its displeasure at the sudden withdrawal of Alucard's warmth and the pleasure that had spread through his body at the touch of his fangs. His head spun as he returned to himself, his heart pounding to replace the blood he had just lost. 

He pressed a hand to his throat, and his fingers came away stained red, smearing across his fingertips. He looked up at Alucard, who was staring at him sightlessly, his eyes wide. There was blood on his lips, and on his fangs, which insinuated between his lips, protruding slightly. Trevor couldn't help but stare at them—those sharp, pointy, toothy things had been stuck in his _neck_. That was _his_ blood on them. The thought made his cheeks burn despite the cold wind whipping around them. 

"Oh, God." Alucard stumbled forward, skidding to his knees in front of Trevor—apparently he had mistaken Trevor's blush as a sign of blood loss. He grabbed Trevor's shoulders, shaking him so hard his teeth rattled. "I drank too much, didn't I? You're weak, you've lost too much blood, I should have held back—"

"Alucard," Trevor tried to say, but he was still shaking him so hard that if he tried to talk he'd bite his own tongue off. He shrugged Alucard's hands off, moving back. "Alucard, I'm fine," he said, grabbing Alucard's wrists. "I'm fine; you didn't drink too much."

Alucard blinked, lips parted slightly. "Oh," he said. "I see. Well—that's good, I suppose." He blinked down at Trevor's hands, which were still tight around his wrists. Trevor quickly let him go and he cleared his throat, looking away from him. "I, er... apologize for overreacting."

"'S fine," mumbled Trevor. He eyed Alucard's hands, which were still pale, but those horrifying black ropy veins had vanished, his arteries now full of fresh blood. Which was comforting, because those black cracks in his skin had been terrifying to see, as if he'd wanted to itch his own skin off at the sight of them. It was also good to know he wasn't so weak anymore—he thought guiltily back to how they'd shouted at each other, and how pale Alucard had been, how wracking that cough had been. How he'd likely stumbled off just so that they wouldn't see how weak he was. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then Sypha sat next to him, clearly uncaring about the cold of the snow through her thin robes. The two small puncture wounds in her throat—replicas of his own—were nearly healed over already, a thin layer of skin stretched over them. Restorative vampire spit, probably. _Gross,_ he thought appreciatively. 

There was silence between the three of them, but it wasn't empty. It was the exact opposite—crackling and alive, as if there were invisible lines connecting all three of them, lines that sparked and cracked and popped with energy and tension and something almost tangible. 

"Thank you," said Alucard, and his voice was strong, but quiet. "Thank you both. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for allowing me to replete my store of blood. I fear I would have been too weak to function otherwise. It means a great deal that you would allow me to drink your blood, and I would like you to know that."

Sypha reached out to take his hand, their fingers tangling together. "There's no need to be so formal, Alucard," she said softly, her eyes sparkling. "Of course we would allow you to—you are our..." She trailed off. 

_Friend?_ Even Trevor knew that that wasn't the right word. _Ally_ was too distant. Maybe 'friend' would have been all right until that night, but after what he'd felt even before Alucard had drunk his blood—that wasn't exactly a sentiment observed in an innocent friendship. 

"Your what?" Alucard asked softly, looking up at her through his curtains of pale hair, and Sypha tilted her chin up, leaning forward. "Ours," she said, and her voice was firm and sure, and steady as her eyes. Her fingers gently brushed his hair out of his face as she leaned towards him. "You are ours."

He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening on hers almost reflexively. And when she kissed him softly, he didn't pull away. 

He'd always thought that if he ever saw Sypha or Alucard with someone else, he'd feel the way anyone in his position would—angry, maybe. Splenetic. Jealous, even. He'd never say it aloud, and was reluctant even to admit it to himself, but there was something about both of them that had taken him entirely by surprise. 

But he had, for some reason, never thought about how he'd feel if he saw both of _them_ together. 

And what he felt was not jealousy. 

Sypha pulled away slowly, and Alucard's eyes were still closed, his face still tilted upwards towards hers. There was something in his face, something desperately grateful—the look of a lonely traveler trapped in a never-ending desert for weeks, and who had finally found an oasis in the burning sands. A look of salvation, and reverence, and near-devotion. 

He slowly opened his eyes, and they were slightly unfocused, and so bright that they looked like floating suns, glowing an eerie gold in the dimness of the night. His face was flushed, and Trevor couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed how pale he'd been for the past few days. It made another little starburst of guilt bloom under his ribs. 

Sypha's fingers were still lingering on Alucard's face, her thumb tracing slowly across the sharp sweep of his cheekbone. He was sitting very still, his eyes half-hooded, lips parted. It was clear that he craved her touch, and yet he was wary of it; it was probably something to do with the fact that he'd grown up loved and cared for, until his family had been brutally torn apart—his mother dead and his father mad because of it. And now they were on a near-impossible mission to kill him, which, if Trevor had to take a guess, didn't make Alucard too happy. 

It was hard to stay bitter when he knew how much he was suffering. And if his parents had really met only twenty years ago, then he'd hazard a guess that Alucard was definitely younger than that. Hell, with super-vampire-anti-aging powers lent to him from his father he might even have been only sixteen or seventeen, trapped in the—albeit tall, slender but broad-shouldered and lush—body of a man in his early twenties. 

"Trevor," called Sypha's voice, bringing him out of his reverie. He blinked, realizing that he was staring rather blatantly at Alucard, and one could even go as far as to say he was ogling him—Oh, God. He looked away quickly, tearing his eyes away from Alucard to look at Sypha. He was sure he was blushing, all over his face. 

She held a hand out, baby-blue eyes wide and guileless. "You're so far away," she said. "Come closer." 

He scooted over obediently, uncaring about the raw coldness of the snow on his knees and thighs. His clothes were damp now, but he didn't really mind. He took Sypha's outstretched hand, allowing their fingers to lace together tightly. Her hands were so much smaller than his, her fingers more frangible, delicate almost. She tugged him closer until he was right next to both her and Alucard, her shoulder pressing against his and his knees knocking against Alucard's. _Hmm,_ he thought. _I don't mind this..._

Alucard's hand reached out, settling onto his throat. He tried not to shiver as he ran his thumb lightly over the puncture wounds he'd left there, contemplatively. He drew his hand back, and they were stained red with his blood. He cut his simmering golden eyes up to Trevor, and then slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. 

And almost completely against Trevor's will and totally unexpectedly, a hot, driving spike of arousal rammed into him, skewering through his gut. All the breath rushed out of his lungs in a single instant, and at the same time all the blood in his body rushed downwards. He was suddenly glad he was sitting, because if he weren't, then his knees would have given way for sure. He grit his teeth, his fingers clenching in the snow so hard it broke apart into small crumbs of ice in his hands, burning with cold.

Alucard slowly popped his fingers out of his mouth, licking his lips with apparent relish. He blinked up at Trevor, his face carefully blank, save for an almost smug gleam in his eye. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to Trevor, and he was enjoying it, too.

Trevor glared at him, and there was a dull, throbbing ache in his blood, one that made him feel uncomfortably hot despite the fact that he was sitting on his knees in the snow. "I swear to God, vampire," he said, and to his total and utter humiliation, his voice was weak and breathless, rough and desperate. "If you don't stop that right now..." He swallowed hard, still glaring. 

Alucard's eyes glittered mischievously, and he arched a single, supercilious eyebrow. _Make me_ , it said. 

The full force of Trevor's unrestrained and finally-freed desire tore from its bindings with the force of a hurricane, momentarily blinding him. All he knew was that one moment he was kneeling in the snow, next to Sypha, and the next he was somehow half on-top of Alucard, his hands fisted in his thin white shirt, and he was kissing him. 

Trevor— _Trevor_ —was kissing him. Alucard. He was kissing _Alucard_. 

And Alucard, apparently, was unprepared for the sudden assault, because he lost balance and fell backwards onto the ground, his hands clawing at Trevor's back. They both went sprawling, and Trevor was almost glad for the snow, because he felt like he was burning from the inside out, slowly. 

Getting bitten willingly by a vampire was one thing. _Making out_ on the ground with one was a different situation entirely, and Trevor had never imagined or even entertained the possibility that both would happen, and that they'd happen that night of all nights. But at that moment he didn't care—at that moment, he was slowly beginning to come to terms with a horrifying, shattering truth that would change his whole life ahead of him, forever. 

Dracula's son was a _really_ fucking good kisser. 

It quickly became apparent that he knew what he was doing—his lips moved over his in thorough, impatient, almost messy caresses, his hands flying upwards to fist in Trevor's hair, winding the strands around his long fingers and tugging to tilt his head. Trevor didn't relent, his own hands tightening on Alucard's shirt as he shifted, pressing Alucard down into the snow as they kissed. 

Alucard's tongue licked over his mouth, probing insistently at the seam of his lips. He acquiesced, parting his lips, letting Alucard in, and it wasn't so much a kiss as it was a clash of tongues and teeth and lips, of pleasure and pain. He felt Alucard's fingers fumble at his shirt, at the buckles that held his vest closed. They parted under his hands, and Trevor shrugged it off his shoulders impatiently, not breaking the kiss. 

He felt something pull the rest of his shirt off, and a moment later he felt Sypha's small, warm hands smooth over his back, making a soft, pleased groan slip from his lips and spill into Alucard's mouth. Her fingers trailed slowly along every inch of his exposed skin, her nails scratching up the grooves of his spine and brushing along his shoulders. Her skin was warm to the touch—hot, almost. Just as the thought passed through his mind her touch grew even hotter, a pleasing contrast to the snow. _The perks of being a magician,_ he thought blearily. 

He attempted to pull away for air, but Alucard yanked him back down, his long, careful fingers trailing along Trevor's chest, his palms smoothing up the swell of his pectorals and sighing into his mouth. "Mmh," said Trevor, trying to breathe, but Alucard held fast, his long, perfect, really- _really_ -tight-leather-pants-clad-legs wrapping around his waist. Unfairly tight leather pants, that clung to every curve of his legs. He had amazing legs. And he really pulled those pants off, Trevor thought distantly. 

_He_ could pull them _off_ Alucard, though. There was that, too. Which was sounding more and more appealing by the second. 

He finally pulled back for air, out of breath. Alucard's cheeks were flushed with fresh blood, his lips parted and bruised from kisses. His starry, disheveled hair was fanned out around his head over the pristine snow, which was only a shade lighter than his skin. Trevor could see the long, slender, alabastrine column of his throat, and the strong, now-steady pulse of life beneath. The whole thing made him look like a statue of one of those fucking virility gods or something. It was infuriating. 

Sypha's hands had stilled on his shoulders, her warmth seeping underneath his skin. He felt her move around until she was beside him, one of her warm hands still on his back. Trevor frowned, feeling he was at a distinct disadvantage; Alucard and Sypha were both still fully clothed, and he was totally bare from the waist upwards. And it was _cold_. 

He tugged at Sypha's robes. "Take those off," he muttered. 

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but reached upwards all the same, her fingers pulling at the clasp that held her robe closed. "Well, since you asked so nicely," she said, shucking the robe off. "I was beginning to feel left out." She tugged at the fabric, and it fell loosely around her slender shoulders. She gave a slow shrug, and it slithered down till her waist, bunching at her hips. She shivered as her bare skin came in contact with the cold air; she wasn't wearing anything below her robe except for a thin chemise made of lace so sheer that she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. 

She looked up at Trevor and Alucard and blinked when she saw their expressions. "What?" she asked innocently, but there was a tiny smirk on her face.

"Hell, Sypha," Trevor said, his voice strangled. "You've been holding out on us."

Her smirk widened. "A girl has to have her secrets."

Alucard struggled into a sitting position, which was a feat, since Trevor was practically sitting on top of him. His wide, darker-than-gold eyes were on Sypha, moving slowly over the downward sweep of her throat and the curves of her shoulders, his amber gaze as heavy and slow and sweet as honey. "You're... you're not cold?" he managed to ask in between undressing her with his eyes. 

She shrugged, shifting closer to Trevor and Alucard and depositing herself between them so that she was perched precariously on Alucard's thighs and Trevor's hip at the same time. "I have you two to warm me up, don't I?" 

Alucard looked slightly put out. "I can't," he said, almost petulantly. "I haven't got as much body heat as full-blooded humans do." 

"I think we've already substantiated in innumerable ways that I am hot enough for the both of us," Trevor said, wrapping an arm around Sypha's narrow waist and pulling her closer. She huffed out a laugh but leaned in to kiss him all the same, her hands curving delicately around his shoulders. Her lips were soft and full, and she was small and warm in his lap, and her fingers as they traveled excruciatingly slowly along his skin were firm and steady. 

She pulled away after both of them were sufficiently breathless, her cheeks pink and her eyes unnaturally bright. He exhaled, then moved a hand down slowly, a finger hooking into the thin strap of her chemise. She shivered as he slid his hand beneath the neck, just barely enough pressure so as to insinuate a hand between silk and skin. She closed her eyes, her lower lip snagging on her teeth. 

"Let's get this off all the way, hmm?" he murmured, and he leaned forward, placing a butterfly-soft kiss on her throat. Her fingers tightened bruisingly on his shoulders as she sucked in a sharp breath. His other hand trailed upwards, sliding the strap of the chemise down her other arm. He saw the line of her throat move as she swallowed, her lashes fluttering. 

Alucard's fingers crept around her hips, deftly unclasping her robe and drawing it off her body entirely. He flung it away into the shadows before his hands settled on her hips, and he leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder. "I imagine we're giving the horses quite the show," he murmured against her skin, cutting his sleepy golden eyes up to Trevor. 

Sypha gave a breathless half-laugh, still biting her lip as Trevor slowly, deliberately slid his fingers beneath the hem of her shift, bunching it in his hands and pushing it up her thighs. She tipped her head back, breathing heavily as he rucked it up further, leaning forward to trail a line of kisses down every inch of skin he exposed. She gave a soft moan in response, her back arching. 

Alucard's own hands gripped the fabric pooling at her hips, shifting closer, his knees tightening around Trevor's waist as he did. And suddenly there was a loud rip as the silk tore in Alucard's fingers, the fabric coming apart in his hands, sliding through his fingers. It fell onto the snow, where it lay almost accusingly, leaving Sypha completely bare in the process. 

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm terribly sorry," Alucard said, and he sounded as perplexed as Trevor felt. "I've apparently misjudged my strength—I haven't ever fed from a human before, or, in this case, two. I didn't realize it would lend me such vigor."

"Well, it did the job, anyhow." Sypha grinned at Trevor before turning around, offering him an eyeful of her bare back as she did—and what looked to him like acres and acres of pale, creamy skin, unmarked and soft and smooth. And _curves_. Proper, womanly curves. As in, breasts. And hips. _And what hips,_ he thought appreciatively. 

God, what this woman hid under her voluminous Speaker robes. 

"Off," he heard her demand, and a second later Alucard's coat went flying. His shirt followed shortly after, flying into the shadows. He grinned to himself as he heard Alucard protest weakly, and then there was a clink as Sypha flung his belt away as well. "As for these pants..." He saw her shake her head. 

"What's wrong with my pants?" He sounded faintly offended. 

"Nothing—God, nothing at all," Sypha said. "They're perfectly... tight, and very... leather, and just awfully... compressing. It's like they're painted to your legs, and it's just—a girl would have a job getting them off you, now wouldn't she?"

"Maybe," said Alucard, and Trevor could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice. Bastard. "Perhaps you should ask Belmont then, since I'm sure he's had plenty of experience with too-tight leather pants in his day."

Trevor choked. " _Excuse_ me?"

"You know what, maybe I will," said Sypha, turning to flash Trevor a grin. She deftly rolled off Alucard, giving Trevor a little push. He flailed, losing balance, and sprawled on top of Alucard, who steadied him with two firm hands flat on his chest. "Well, someone's eager," he drawled, golden eyes glittering. Trevor managed to regain enough balance to flip him off, glaring. 

Alucard's lazy smile widened, then his fingers curled languidly on Trevor's chest, reaching behind his back to slide into his hair. He pulled him forward, cool lips just touching his neck. Trevor suppressed a shiver, his hands desperately roving for purchase and alighting on Alucard's hips. He couldn't decide whether Alucard's touch was hot or cold, but holy hell did it feel _good_. His tongue just grazed the sore wounds in his neck where he'd bitten him only minutes before and he couldn't stop the soft groan that spilled from his lips. 

Alucard's lips slid to his ear, and his lips may have been cool, but his breath was hot, and the dichotomy was oddly pleasing, and did strange things to his insides. "Come on, Belmont," he breathed, straining closer. His hips pressed to Trevor's and _Christ_ , it smashed all the air from his lungs. "Do it; I know you want to." 

Trevor couldn't decide whether he meant it as a challenge or as a demand, but he didn't care either way. All he knew was that he wanted, wanted them both, Sypha and Alucard, and nothing was going to stop him from having them both. 

Not even Alucard's ridiculously tight leather pants. Which were _way_ sexier than they had any right to be. 

His fingers fumbled desperately at the buttons of said pants, and they popped open easily underneath his groping hands. "Don't rip them," Alucard said testily, and if he was going to complain about _that_ when Trevor was literally trying to strip him, for God's sake—he leaned forward and shut him up with a hard, driving kiss that seemed to work rather effectively; Alucard hummed contentedly, fingers sliding into Trevor's hair, gripping hard and holding him there. 

After what felt like years of fruitless struggling, the fucking pants finally came loose, and Alucard was, apparently as glad as he was to get rid of them; he kicked them off with a sort of gleeful satisfaction, his long, now-bare legs sliding in between Trevor's, spreading them slightly. He arched his back, arms twining around Trevor, pulling him down further.

He leaned up as if to deepen the kiss—and then suddenly Trevor was flat on his back on the snow, with Alucard springing atop him, lithe as a cat. He had barely any time to register the shock of the cold before Alucard was there, his fingers lacing with Trevor's, pulling his arms above his head. He placed a hot, lingering kiss to his lips before continuing down his jaw, then his neck, pressing a line of bruising kisses down the column of his throat. His breath was hot on his skin as he moved lower still, lips outlining the shape of his collarbone, then trailing a languid path of kisses down his chest. 

He could barely breathe when Alucard's kisses stopped, just above the waistline of his trousers, which were now almost uncomfortably tight. Alucard's breath ghosted over his skin, eyelashes just brushing against his hip as his long fingers flicked expertly at the buttons, which parted under his touch. He pulled them down, lips following the line of them downwards, and Trevor's shaking fingers slid into his hair, the pale strands soft and pliant against his skin. 

Alucard gave a few more quick, efficient tugs, and then his trousers were off all the way, and he imagined he should have felt cold, but all he could feel was fire as Alucard's fingers slowly wrapped around his cock, forcing a low groan from his lips. _Fuck._ He slowly slid his fingers up and down Trevor's length, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the sounds it pulled from his lips. 

"You like that?" Alucard veritably purred, his fingers tightening around him. "You want more?"

 _Oh, God, yes._ He exhaled harshly, his fingers tightening in Alucard's hair. "Alucard," was all he could gasp, the only coherent thing he could manage to say. Alucard only smiled a slow, consuming smile that sent shivers skittering down his back, then, without looking away from Trevor, he deliberately lowered his head and slipped his mouth on him. 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he groaned aloud, his back arching as Alucard's lips wrapped firmly around his cock, taking him deeper, slowly. He gasped incoherence, urging him on silently with frantic thrusts of his hips and his hands in Alucard's hair. As if from a great distance he saw Sypha settle behind Alucard, slinging a leg over his hips and straddling his hips, her lips finding his bare back as her other hand crept down, slender fingers taking Alucard's own cock into them. 

He hummed, clearly pleased, his tongue tracing enticingly over Trevor as his other hand skimmed along Sypha's thigh, fingers curling between her legs. _Fucking vampiric multitasking,_ he thought distantly. 

Alucard pressed down on him further, until Trevor was brushing the back of his throat. Still he moved his lips in a slow, impossibly pleasurable dance, his tongue moving in a maddening counterpoint. He drew away slightly and Trevor's hips moved of their own volition, thrusting hard into Alucard's mouth again. 

Alucard finally raised his head, and all Trevor could do was stare back at him, unable to speak, knowing he must have looked absolutely wrecked, because that was definitely how he felt. The whole world fell away, everything narrowing down to just them, all three of them and wherever their bodies met. His eyes found Sypha, sitting astride Alucard, her eyes half-lidded and her lips parted, her hand slowly pumping Alucard's cock, her other hand moving along his shoulders and back. God, what a woman. 

Alucard's lips found him again, and his head fell back, a moan scraping past his throat. He could see the sky above him, wheeling and shimmering with stars, and he could feel Alucard, feel his breath and his lips and his tongue and his teeth and his hands. He could hear his own gasps, his voice unrecognizable, rough and thick as it was with lust and desperation, saying, "Please, Alucard, please, _please_ —" and oh, God, he was Trevor fucking Belmont and he was begging a vampire—a vampire who was sitting between his legs with his mouth on Trevor's cock.

He was so, so fucked. 

That was the last thing he thought before it all finally became too much, all of it—Alucard's lips and the muffled sounds of his groans as Sypha's hands worked on him and Sypha's own moans and gasps as Alucard's fingers danced between her thighs, as focused as his mouth. 

White blanched his vision, lightning crackling across his eyes as the stars descended from the heavens to swirl around him, their light soft and bright and blinding. They spun around him so fast that they blurred, coalescing into a thousand billion smears of light and feeling. Still through it all he could feel Alucard, who didn't pull away even as he came—swallowing around his cock. 

Finally, after ages, he came back to his body, and he could see them, both of them—Alucard's back arched languorously, his lips parted to show the tips of his fangs, eyes closed as Sypha's hands moved over him. His own fingers were pleasuring her in turn, both of them seeking to push each other off the ledge. 

Alucard broke first, his back bowing as his head fell back, showering down and brushing the snow, white mixing with gold. He groaned out Sypha's name as he came, coating Sypha's fingers in his release, his chest heaving. And just as he stopped shaking Sypha came apart as well, her legs tightening around Alucard's hips as her lips parted, a moan dragging itself from her lips as her back arched. She looked like a goddess, her body dripping moonlight and her eyes half-closed, her hair crowning her head like licks of fire. 

Alucard gently laid her down, moving over to roll onto his back next to Trevor, panting. All three of them were out of breath, skin slicked with sweat, looking up at the sky, shoulder to shoulder. And maybe the glittering, polychromatic stars shining above them were thinking as Trevor was that perhaps this was meant to happen after all, all along, and their light was a little brighter knowing that it had. 

The Sleeping Soldier, the Hunter and the Scholar who whispered to the stars, and the stars who whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I couldn't help that Throne of Glass reference.  
> Okay, this became way longer than I had originally intended. And I don't know why, but I was so nervous about this chapter. Please tell me what you guys think, it'd be a relief. Thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alucard is fucked within an inch of his life.
> 
> Yes, both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy. <3

**_Sypha_ **

The sky had never been more beautiful. 

It unfolded above her, an unfathomable expanse of blackness. Cold, bright stars like pinpricks, like diamonds scattered across crushed black velvet winked down at her, and she remembered being a little girl and looking up at the night sky from the roof of her caravan and trying to count them. The sky had been the roof above her head all her life, the illuminated path she had followed since before she could remember. 

It had looked after her, no matter what she did; it had always been there to guide her, and had borne witness to everything—everything she had experienced, she experienced with the sky watching over her. She had gone to Gresit with her people with it above her, choking with smoke and filled with the cries of the dying. She had gone to search the catacombs below its shining blue surface. She had saved the city with Trevor and Alucard by her side, and it had glowed with what she couldn't help but think was pride.

And it was above her now, teeming with stars that poured silver light onto the ground, turning the snow to quicksilver. It glowed softly above them, all three of them, and its light was soft and bright, and it was almost as if it was smiling down at her, at them, and it was happy for her happiness. 

Because she _was_ happy—happier than she could ever remember being. There was something else, too, another feeling that spread in her chest and left her feeling oddly breathless, something she'd only ever felt when she was with Trevor and Alucard. Something alien and different and something that was frightening and exhilarating at the same time. 

She felt Trevor shift next to her, his shoulder brushing hers slightly. "This might just be me," he mumbled, "but I think my whole back is numb."

Sypha giggled, pulling herself up into a sitting position. "I think it's just you, Trevor," she said, sitting up. Trevor did so as well, grabbing her arm for support as he hauled himself up, wincing. "Did it have to be snowing? For God's sake." He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing the snow from the messy black strands. 

"It is just you," agreed Alucard from her other side, pulling himself up with ease. His hair cascaded down his shoulders and back, tangled by Trevor's fingers and lightened by the snow caught in his golden tresses, as well as the moonlight drenching his form. "I'm actually feeling rather warm." He sent Sypha a catlike smile that made her cheeks burn. 

"Well, good for you." Trevor rolled his eyes, stretching his legs, apparently unabashed and uncaring about his own nakedness as he did. She tried as hard as she could not to stare at the veritable miles of tanned, scarred skin, layered over hard, shifting muscle that he so carelessly exposed, and failed rather miserably. 

And she could hardly be blamed, she thought distantly, her eyes moving over his chest and following the lines and ridges of muscle downwards; if anything, he was the one putting all sorts of thoughts into her head. Her eyes dipped lower, and it didn't matter that she'd seen it all before already—God, he was gorgeous. 

"Like what you see, Sypha?" 

She jumped, blushing, looking up hastily and into Trevor's smirking face. He braced his hands behind him, tipping his head back to look at her, blue eyes glittering. He didn't bother covering himself, or even regaining some semblance of modesty; if anything, he appeared not to mind her ogling, even enjoyed it—if his bodily reactions were anything to go by. 

"As a matter of fact, yes," she said, tearing her eyes away from his lower half and looking with difficulty at his face, hoping the moonlight hid her blush. "But I think I'd like it even more if you came here, and so would you, by the looks of things."

"So demanding," he said, adopting a wounded tone. But he was grinning as he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him and tugging on her hand so that she half-fell onto him. She slung her legs over his hips as he pulled her down, kissing her messily, one of his arms sliding around her waist while the other reached for something behind him. His skin was hot, despite his complaints about the cold, and he made a soft, pleased sound into her mouth when her hands trailed along his back.

A second later she jumped as she felt something behind her, something soft that brushed along her spine. She relaxed when she recognized Alucard's touch, his lips tracing the curve of her shoulder and his fingers spreading across her hips. She felt him shift, and he made to move closer when she broke apart from Trevor, turning her head to look at Alucard. 

"Oh, no," she said, disengaging from Trevor, extracting her limbs from his as she turned. "No, I'm not going to be the centerpiece in this spectacle." 

One of his brows shot up. "I'm sorry?" he asked as she deftly moved back, gently pushing Alucard in front of her. He obliged, pulling her into his lap as he turned to face her, his back curving against Trevor's chest as he did. Trevor sent her a tiny smirk from behind Alucard's shoulder, his long bare legs curving around his waist. 

"I—I'm getting the distinct sense that the two of you are... up to something," Alucard sighed, squirming slightly as Trevor's fingers slid into his hair, tilting his head to nuzzle his neck. Sypha settled more comfortably into his lap, her elbows braced on his shoulders as she bent to kiss him. 

"Mmm," he hummed, his lips parting immediately under hers as his fingers dug into her hips, his tongue curling lazily against hers in a slow, sensual dance. His hands slid down, skimming along her waist and gripping her thighs, pulling her legs tighter around his hips. She gave a little gasp against his mouth when she felt him against her thigh, hot and hard—and still growing. _Oh._

She smiled into the kiss, her teeth sliding along his upper lip. His back arched beneath her, a startled breath puffing onto her lips as Trevor's tongue traced along his skin, fingers skimming along his chest. She pulled away, and his cheeks were candy-apple red, both from cold and from exertion, his eyes brighter than bright. He said nothing, just blinked up at her dazedly, almost drunkenly. His lips were flushed, full and slightly parted, and she could just see the tips of baby fangs. 

He leaned in to kiss her again but she shied away, her lips skimming down his jaw instead. He sighed as she kissed his throat, the pale, smooth, graceful line of his skin. Trevor laid his own path of kisses down his other shoulder, at the seamless curve between Alucard's neck and shoulder. She could hear Alucard's soft moans, feel the way his head fell back to expose more of his skin to both of their lips, the way his hands tightened on her hips almost bruisingly. 

Sypha's lips met the softly but wildly fluttering pulse in his throat, his heart hammering against her skin. She felt him shiver as she placed a featherlight kiss there, swallowing his racing heartbeat. He breathed her name, and she felt a particularly sharp, throbbing pulse against her lips just as she felt something nudge her thigh, making heat creep into her cheeks. _Well, someone appears to be enjoying themselves._

The thought sent a wave of dark satisfaction cresting over her as she pressed one last kiss to his neck before drawing away, fingers clutching his shoulders. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving as Trevor's lips moved down his back, following the ridges of his spine. 

She couldn't help but admire the way his whole body was one perfectly rendered line—from the sweep of his throat to the arch of his back to the curves of his legs braced on the snow. Even the cascade of pale blond hair that fell in artful sheets down his back seemed to be intentional—it was as if the universe somehow always managed to align itself in just the right order to make Alucard look perfect. 

Well, she was hardly complaining. 

Still clutching his shoulders tightly, she moved up, biting her lip as she aligned their bodies, gritting her teeth. She exhaled, carefully maneuvering herself upwards, swallowing down a gasp, then moved down, taking him inside her slowly.

His eyes flew open, his chest expanding as he gasped in a breath, brushing the swell of her breasts as he did. His hands tightened on her hips, his knuckles blanching with the force of his grip. His head fell back, a shallow groan scraping past his throat. Sypha was breathing hard as she sheathed him inside her fully, their hips locked. Alucard let out a soft moan as he bottomed out, the pulse in his throat fluttering wildly. 

She felt Trevor shift behind Alucard, his legs tightening around Alucard's hips. Alucard stiffened suddenly, his lips parting as his eyes widened, an almost startled sound escaping his lips. She could hear Trevor's own harsh breaths as he pushed into Alucard from behind, an arm around his waist pulling him tight against his hips. His black hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, a hectic flush spreading across his cheeks as he did. 

"Oh, God—oh, _fuck_ ," Alucard gasped. He swallowed hard, his chest heaving. "I—ah, you're—you're spoiling me, the both of you," he managed to say, and his voice was breathless and strained. "First you give me your blood, and now—now this—" A shudder rippled through his body as he closed his eyes. "Oh, God, move, just move—"

"Which one of us?" Trevor asked on a breathless half-laugh, his eyes large and dark and wide. 

Alucard moaned. " _Both of you,_ " he said desperately.

Trevor sent her a grin from behind Alucard's shoulder that was half-wild, more teeth and edge than softness as he shifted, his arm tightening around Alucard's waist. Sypha's fingers dug into Alucard's shoulders, likely leaving marks as she started to move slowly, rolling her hips over his. He murmured, shuddering as she did, one of his hands curling around her waist as the other reached behind him, tangling in Trevor's hair. 

Alucard's skin was cool against her hands, but he felt incredibly good between her thighs, sensation spreading along her skin as she closed her eyes, a moan dragging itself from her throat. He was making soft, inarticulate sounds of approval beneath her hands, his heart hammering underneath her palms. 

"Mmm... faster," he purred, his back arching, and she didn't know whether he was talking to her or Trevor, but she didn't care; she tightened her legs around his hips, rocking her hips, taking him in deeper. He exhaled sharply in response, his eyes falling shut. She could hear Trevor's breathing turn ragged as he pulled Alucard tighter against him, his teeth grazing the arch of his neck. 

Sypha moved faster, her slow, deliberate rocking turning to bouncing, panting as she chased a release that she sensed lingering just out of reach. Alucard sighed and whimpered and moaned beneath both of them, and every sound he made sent tingles of arousal shooting through her veins like forks of lightning. He shifted, tilting his hips and wrapping his legs tight around her waist, allowing the wide head of his cock hit to hit that one spot inside her that magnified every sensation a thousand times. She gasped his name, her head falling back as an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over her body. 

She felt him lean forward, his lips finding her neck, sucking and biting softly at her exposed skin. She sighed and squirmed around him as his tongue just touched the two neat puncture wounds his fangs had left in her skin, almost fully healed now. Even so it sent shivers spider-walking down her spine, freezing and burning all at once. His breaths were harsh on her neck, his lips cool and soft. 

She felt him tense beneath her, his lips stilling on her throat. "Oh, God," she heard him gasp. "Ah—I don't even know whose name to say—you're both—" He hissed as Trevor thrust hard into him from behind, his words breaking off into a wordless groan. He turned his head, his fingers fisting into Trevor's hair as he crushed his lips to his, kissing him brutally. Trevor groaned into the kiss, his fingers scratching across Alucard's back, gouging bloody lines into his skin. Alucard's lips parted, and she saw Trevor suck his lower lip into his mouth, biting down hard. "Fuck you, Belmont," Alucard gasped when he resurfaced, his eyes nearly black. 

"Maybe later," Trevor gasped back, and Alucard's breathless laugh choked off as Sypha moved even faster, taking him hard, pleasure cresting over her every time their hips collided. He pulled her closer, his breaths coming out in choked moans, sweat gleaming in the ridges of his muscles, the hollows of his throat. Even like this, so close to losing control, he was beautiful, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

And he was theirs. 

His back arched into Trevor's chest as his legs tightened bruisingly around her waist suddenly as he came apart, liquid heat exploding inside her as he groaned, his eyes open but glassy, unseeing. His lips parted, his cheeks flushing—he had never looked more human, more tangible, more real. He threw his head back, his long cascade of flaxen tresses swinging down till his waist as his chest rose and fell heavily. He shuddered apart in their arms, whispering both of their names, his eyes fluttering closed and his body relaxing into both of theirs. 

Just as he alighted from the height of his pleasure Sypha felt herself slip and fall, clenching hard around Alucard as she overflowed, a long, low moan forcing itself from between her lips. Gold and silver smeared into her vision as what looked to her like stars and supernovas exploding danced before her eyes, pure feeling cresting over her and leaving her breathless. She felt weightless, buoyed upwards and untethered, lost in the sea of the sky. 

Once the sky stopped spinning and she could see again, she found herself lying strewn across both Trevor and Alucard on the snow, her arm thrown across Alucard's chest and her leg hooked under Trevor's knee. Trevor's arm curled around her waist loosely, and Alucard's was twined around hers, his fingers brushing her thigh. She could hear Trevor's ragged breathing, and feel Alucard's racing heartbeat through her fingers, which were splayed across his chest. 

It was oddly still and peaceful—just the three of them, lying beneath the stars again, all breathless and flushed and intoxicated with each other. She smiled to herself, turning her head into Trevor's shoulder. His skin was warm, a pleasant contrast to the cold of the snow underneath her, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply; he smelled like wood smoke and metal and Trevor. 

His arm tightened almost reflexively around her waist, pulling her closer. She tugged on Alucard in turn, and he took her hand, leaning against her shoulder, still gazing up at the night sky. She could see the stars reflected in his eyes, and it was as if they were just two more golden disks among the trillions of bits of light above them.

He turned his head, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked quietly, looking up at the stars, their cold, brilliant light drenching them, wrapping them in silver. Alucard only looked at her, his eyes never leaving her face. "Yes, it is," he murmured, his lips curving up into a soft smile. 

She blushed, looking away, biting her lip. He laughed gently, leaning up, his fingers tilting her face towards him as he kissed her softly, just a brush of lips on hers. He drew away a moment later, his fingers traveling slowly across her cheek.

"You're all right?" she managed to ask, her fingers reaching up to lace with his where they rested on her cheek. He cut his eyes up to her, and they were glittering. "I meant it when I said you were spoiling me—both of you," he said. He grinned at her, blindingly. "I must confess I've never been more well taken care of."

She huffed out a laugh, and she heard Trevor snort. "Well, good," he said, rolling over onto his side, his elbow braced on the snow. "If you'd said anything else I'd have had to try again."

"I don't think I'd exactly mind that," sighed Alucard, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "And something tells me you wouldn't, either."

"I wouldn't get all cocky this early," said Trevor, an arm reaching around Sypha to poke Alucard's side. "It's only the first time."

Alucard squirmed away from Trevor's finger, muffling a squeak. "So there'll be other times?" he asked once he managed to evade further tickling. Trevor rolled over onto his back again, his arm draped loosely over Sypha's shoulders. He hesitated, and she could almost hear the guard go up in his voice when he spoke again. "Would you want there to be other times?"

"Answering a question with a question." He sounded wry. Then his fingers brushed lightly against Sypha's side, almost thoughtfully. "But... yes, I think I would like there to be other times." He paused. "I... I've never really belonged, anywhere I existed—among vampires they only saw my human side, and among humans they only saw my vampire side. Who then, was I supposed to be? How was I to act? When with my father I was forced to act older than I was, and even if he was my father, something told me I should present myself differently. It was only with my mother that I could cast away all pretense, and after she died... I was caught in a masquerade, every day."

He sat up, looking down at them, the snow silhouetting behind him, a slice of silver in the darkness, like the wistful curve of a nostalgic smile. "But I feel that I may belong with you. That I may drop whatever facade I've carried around with me since my mother died when I'm with you. I don't know what it means, but... I am grateful for it. For _you_. Both of you."

Sypha tightened her fingers around his, pressing a soft kiss to their entwined fingers. "And we're both grateful for you, too, Alucard—even Trevor, though I think he'd rather chop his own hand off than admit it"—Trevor protested weakly, but she cut him off—"and we'll be here, always. If... if there's anything we can do, anything—if you need anything, you need only ask."

He smiled at her, gently. "That means a great deal. I'm very grateful for your kindness."

"And again with the formality." She yanked him down for a kiss and he laughed against her mouth, and he was still smiling when he pulled away. "You could have just said, 'Thank you, Sypha, you're the best and you're amazing, and there's nobody out there who can compare to you', instead."

"Very well, then." He leaned down, lips just brushing hers. "Thank you, Sypha." He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "You're the best"—he kissed her jaw—"and you're amazing"—another kiss on her neck—"and there's nobody out there"—his lips ghosted over the skin just below her collarbone—"who can compare to you." He leaned back up to press his lips to hers and she smothered her laughter in his kisses, still giggling when he finally pulled away. "Much better, don't you think?" she asked, smiling.

"Much," he agreed. "Now I think it's time for all of us to get out of the cold." And, without missing a beat he bodily scooped her up into his arms, promptly carrying her over to the empty wagon they had stopped by the fire. She shrieked at the suddenness of it, grabbing his arms as he held her to his chest, apparently uncaring about the fact that neither of them had a stitch of clothing on.

He deposited her in the back, and a second later Trevor appeared next to him, holding an armful of clothes. He raised a brow at her as he tossed her the torn remains of her shift, his lips kicking up into a grin. "You can thank Alucard for the state of that," he said, looking over at Alucard, who only shrugged artlessly. "I must say I rather prefer you out of it than in it, but I can repair it should you wish."

She made a face at the torn fabric as she pulled on her robes. "Oh, what's the point?" she asked, flinging it away heedlessly. "I'll just go without." She grinned at Trevor and Alucard, drawing her knees up as she sat against the wall. "It'll certainly make it easier for you two."

"How thoughtful." Trevor climbed into the empty carriage beside her, having thrown on his pants in undignified haste—he'd put them on inside out, but he didn't seem to care in the least. He didn't bother putting on his tunic, simply throwing it over his shoulders like a blanket. He glanced at Alucard, who was looping his belt across his waist, frowning in concentration at the simple task. 

They both watched, somewhat fascinated by the unearthly grace of his motions and the liquid way he moved—she didn't quite know how, but Alucard could even make putting on a shirt look somehow poetic, like the fluid grace of a tongue of fire, or the graceful curl of mist lingering in the early morning air. He pulled his hair from beneath the shirt's collar, then quickly moved into the wagon across from Trevor and Sypha.

He handed Sypha his coat, one of his eyebrows shooting upwards. "It's warm," was his response to her quizzical expression. She wasn't cold, but she took the coat anyway, slinging it around her shoulders. It smelled nice, like snow and cloves and Alucard's hair. It was also ridiculously large for her, and she felt oddly like a child playing dress-up with it on; the collar came till the tops of her ears, and the shoulders stuck out past her own. But Alucard had been right—it was warm, warmer than her robes, that was for sure.

Sypha held out a hand, concentrating, willing the air to heat and bend, forming a small ball of fire. She let it float from her palm, suspended in midair between the three of them, floating serenely. It was small but radiated heat, and she willed it to stay there, not too bright, but just bright enough.

"So, now it's off to the Belmont Hold," said Alucard, glancing at Trevor, who said nothing. "I trust we won't be followed, or disturbed there?"

Trevor shook his head, gazing into the fire. "No," he said quietly. "No, nobody used to live there but us. It's a pretty large estate, so we were the only people around for miles. The only things we can hope to be disturbed by are mice and bats and the like." He tugged absently at a lock of his hair. 

He seemed preoccupied—more so than usual, which was faintly alarming. Alucard seemed to think the same thing, because he leaned forward, a carefully neutral expression on his face. "I hope you're comfortable, going back to your old home?" he asked cautiously. "No... repressive memories?"

"None, unless you count the fact that the church burned everything including my family there when I was just a kid," he said, then immediately winced at how sharp he had sounded. "Look, it's fine. I get that you're concerned and everything, but we should just get it over with so that we can move on and kill Dracula."

"It's hardly that simple," Alucard said, and his voice was nearly gentle, as if he were talking to a skittish horse. "You've been running your whole life, ever since you left the estate. Going back now might... say, _jostle_ any bad memories. Cause them to resurface, give you nightmares, that sort of thing."

Trevor scoffed. "It isn't like those things don't already happen," he said. "It's nothing, seriously. I'll be fine—as long as we finish what we go there to do, then going back isn't a problem."

"Trevor," said Sypha quietly. "It's okay to be afraid sometimes."

"I'm not afraid." He dropped his head onto his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. "I want to go back, but at the same time I don't want to go back. I don't know if that makes sense, but it's the truth." He sighed. "I... I can still see it all in my head, the fire and the blood and the screams... It just makes me wonder that if I go back—what if I find their bodies, if they're still there in the house—" He caught himself, taking a shuddering breath. "I can't afford to think about it."

"Is... is that why you turned to drinking?" asked Sypha softly, and he huffed out a laugh, passing a shaking hand over his eyes. "Yeah. It helps me forget, even if it's just for a little while. It's easier to build up a bad reputation than it is to build up a good one, anyway."

She looped her arm through his, putting her head on his shoulder. "Well, now you have us," she said. "You'll survive, Trevor Belmont. We'll make sure of it."

"Yeah." His lips quirked up into a small smile. "Because there's nothing better than some really good sex to take your mind off your destroyed ancestral home. I'm in good hands." He leaned his head against the wall of the carriage, sighing and closing his eyes. A second later he cracked one eye open, raising a brow at Alucard. "What're you doing so far away?" he muttered. "C'mere."

Alucard grinned but did as he was asked, shifting over so that he was beside Trevor, sandwiching him between Sypha and himself. He leaned in, gently nuzzling Trevor's neck. "You were right, Belmont," he said, his arm curling around Trevor's waist to squeeze Sypha's hand. "You are in good hands."

"And so are you, you bastard," came Trevor's muffled reply. "Go to sleep."

Sypha smiled to herself, wrapped up in Trevor's and Alucard's warmth, safe and happy and more contented than she had felt in a long time. She closed her eyes, the small ball of fire winking out as starlight and moonshine leaked into the carriage, turning the black to silver and the white to pearl. She slept, knowing that she was safe, knowing she was cared for, because she knew that they were there.

And because she was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading! I live on comments and kudos, so please feed the monster, you won't regret it. Even if you don't, it's all good; if you're reading this right now, then I love you, darling. <3

**Author's Note:**

> The author's diet consists primarily of comments and kudos, so remember to feed it thoroughly so that it remains satisfied.


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